


if you change your mind (i'm the first in line)

by MayWilder



Series: Parkner Week 2019 [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Harley goes to midtown, High School, Love Notes, M/M, Minor James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark, Misunderstandings, Parkner Week 2019, Secret Admirer, Truth Serum, back at it again with the, because I said so, parkner, secret confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 12:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20135401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/pseuds/MayWilder
Summary: The first note falls out of his locker when he's getting his books for calculus. Its typed, with the simple phrase "your curls catch the sunlight" on a little piece of paper. Harley looks around, but finds the usual students at their lockers in a hurry during the transition between classes.The following come in a similar fashion.Out of his history binder, "you bite your lip to keep your chuckles quiet"Out of his locker in the morning, "it drives me crazy when you lean your head back in class and your throat is so exposed"In his advanced physics textbook, "sometimes I just sit and think about how smart you are and I wonder if you know that you're going to save the world. Because I do. I know it.""I definitely have a crush on you, cowboy"**Parkner Week 2019: Hat on backwards/Birthday/Secret confessions





	if you change your mind (i'm the first in line)

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to rxcrcfllptrs for helping me with the idea for this fic! I only finished it with your help so much appreciated <3  
Y'all have all been so great this week with the comments and the love. THANK YOU!

The first note falls out of his locker when he's getting his books for calculus. Its typed, with the simple phrase "_your curls catch the sunlight_" on a little piece of paper. Harley looks around, but finds the usual students at their lockers in a hurry during the transition between classes.

The following come in a similar fashion.

Out of his history binder, _you bite your lip to keep your chuckles quiet_

Out of his locker in the morning, _it drives me crazy when you lean your head back in class and your throat is so exposed_

In his advanced physics textbook,_ sometimes I just sit and think about how smart you are and I wonder if you know that you're going to save the world. Because I do. I know it._

_You inspire me to do better_

_You smile for your sister like nobody else. I think it's sweet._

_Wearing your hat backwards is really hot, and I can’t look away from you when you do. But I also can’t stop thinking about that stupid vine. And that’s a problem, because you literally only wear hats backwards_

_Your eyes crinkle when you're actually happy_

_I definitely have a crush on you, cowboy_

"What's that?"

Harley lets an inhuman noise tear from his throat as he jumps. Peter jerks back with wide eyes, hands splayed in defense. "Sorry! I was just asking!"

"It's fine," Harley coughs. He slams his locker shut hard enough that Peter flinches. "Ah, man, I'm the sorry one. I was in my own little world and didn't even hear you come up."

"Yeah." Peter scratches at the back of his neck. "I forget not everybody has a sixth sense. You okay though?"

"I'm fine," Harley tells him gratefully. "Um, I was just thinking about dinner tonight."

It's clear that Peter can see through the lie, but he just smiled and falls into stride beside Harley. "Well, May's working the third shift, so we're gonna have Decathlon practice at my house. I convinced MJ to let me have Mr. Stark order us a bunch of pizza so Betty doesn't try to cook that chicken you hate again."

Harley's chest fucking flutters because _of course_ Peter did something with him in mind. Considerate, sweet Peter who has taken it upon himself to make sure Harley always gets what he wants. The single-mindedness of this task has brought up issues before, but Peter refuses to move on the subject.

"You spent so long taking care of everyone else and sacrificing your own happiness," Peter insists every time. "So let me fight for you."

_Nobody has ever fought for me,_ Harley usually thinks, but nods and lets Peter have his way.

"Thanks," Harley shrugs now. "Abby and Pepper have a girls night, anyway, so that works. I'm guessing MJ isn't playing with regionals around the corner?"

"She is determined, that's for sure."

And Harley forgets all about his secret admirer, caught up in conversation with the boy he loves.

**)-(**

Harley is sitting on the couch with Peter when the other boy twitches. His pencil falls from his hand. There's a look on his face that lets his friends know what’s happening.

“Peter,” MJ says sharply. “This is going to be a long night. Why don’t you and Harley make a coffee run?”

“Come on, MJ,” Flash groans, face flying forward into his flashcards. “Please don’t tell me you expect us to stay here all night? It’s _Friday_.”

“And regionals are next week,” MJ hisses. She narrows her eyes at Flash. “And you will not be the reason I blow it. Parker, Keener, coffee run. Flash, the printing process in which ink is forced into recessed lines is called…?”

Harley and Peter grab their coats. Peter scrambles into his shoes, barely giving Harley time to slide into his boots and follow him out the door. “You got the Iron Spider?”

“Yes,” Peter hisses. He flinches again. “Harley, I—

“Go,” he says. “I’ll get coffee, take my time, meet you back here.”

Peter squeezes Harley’s hand. “You aren’t mad?”

“No, I understand, sweetheart,” Harley tells him. The _sweetheart_ slips from his lips, but it seems to please Peter. “Seriously, go, I got this.”

There’s a weird look on Peter’s face, an understanding that Harley has seen cross Tony’s face when Pepper sends him off to war. “Thank you, Harley. I’ll be back before you know it!”

Harley watches him run off into an alley with a chuckle. Peter can only withstand hearing so much crime in his own backyard before he has to act, and Harley knows it. He hopes there’s some kind of peace that comes with Spider-Man and helping because he’s able to. Harley can’t even imagine.

To busy himself, he strolls down the road to the coffee shop around the corner and gets the usual drinks for the team. It takes a solid thirty minutes to stand in line, order, pay, and wait for them to make everything. He’s never understood that about coffee shops in New York—they’re always full around the same time on Friday night with a large variety of people. It takes forever.

As he’s leaving, carefully balancing drink carriers and a bag of pastries in his teeth, Harley finds Peter hurrying down the sidewalk towards him. The Spider-Man suit is nowhere to be seen, and he looks as cute as ever bundled up against the snow. “Hey! Sorry!”

“No bruises in sight,” Harley said when Peter takes the bag from his mouth. “Impressive.”

“Yeah,” Peter chuckles. “He wasn’t really a fighter. He just kind of…stabbed me with a needle and ran away.”

Harley stops walking. “The fuck, Parker?”

“What?”

“You got stabbed with a needle!”

“Whatever was in it clearly didn’t affect me. I’m totally fine.”

Harley keeps walking, shaking his head in exasperation. “When MJ releases us from practice, you’re coming home with me and having Bruce check you over.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Harls.”

“I am not dramatic.”

“Lies. And if it’ll make you happy, I will do whatever it takes, but I don’t think its necessary.”

“Whatever it takes, huh?” Harley grins. They’re back at the apartment building. “Be careful with stuff like that, I might use it inappropriately.”

“You promise?” Peter asks, before his eyes widen in horror. “I don’t, um, sorry! I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Or the thing about making you happy—

“Chill, darlin’,” Harley laughs as he opens the door. “We all get lost in the banter.”

“I get lost in—” Peter visibly bites down on his tongue, striding into the door. "_Shit_."

Harley’s laugh echoes through the lobby.

**)-(**

“_Truth serum?_” Peter cries out, staring in horror at Dr. Strange and Bruce. “How has my metabolism not taken care of that by now?!”

“Because there is a magical component to it,” Bruce says. “We need to discuss the attack at length to figure how who did this to you. I’m afraid its more of a potion or spell than a serum.”

“So give the kid an anecdote,” Tony snaps at Strange. “He’s seventeen, he can’t be spouting the truth about Spider-Man everywhere. His identity would be revealed and then he could die.”

“Then I would suggest staying under the radar until then,” Strange says. “Because this is complex. I don’t have a solution just laying around.”

“What the hell use are you if you can’t—”

“Whoa, Tones, baby,” Rhodey steps in front of Tony, a hand spread across his husband’s chest. “It’s not Stephen’s fault that Peter was attacked, don’t take it out on him.”

Harley watches the whole interaction from the hospital bed, sitting next to Peter. The teenager’s eyes are wide and panicked, and have been since he’s been unable to stop himself from blurting every thought he gets out loud. It had taken him telling Flash to shove the economics book up his ass to make Harley veto any forward action until they went to see Bruce. Bruce called in Strange, and…the result hasn’t been favorable to anyone.

“I want to be alone,” Peter croaks, silencing the adults in the room. “If there’s nothing to do about it tonight, I want to leave.”

“Okay,” Tony whispers. “Yeah, we’ll—

“I want to take myself, I have my web shooters.”

Tony swallows. “Yeah. Please have Karen alert Friday that you get home safely.”

“Yeah.” Peter hops up, reaching for his coat. He looks at Harley. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you after I get this sorted.”

“Peter,” Harley calls, but the other boy is already darting out the doors of the lab. Harley turns to adults in the room and holds his arms out. “There has to be a solution for this.”

“We won’t know one until Peter talks to us,” Bruce shrugs sadly. “We’re going to have to find the guy who did this before we can have a solution.”

“And we’ll keep an eye on Peter,” Rhodey assures both Harley and Tony. “We’ll make sure he’s safe, alright?”

“Yeah,” Tony nods. “I’ll go talk to him in the morning. For now, you should get to bed. It’s late.”

**)-(**

Harley doesn’t hear from Peter all weekend. He calls, texts, and even sends him memes through Instagram, but there’s not a peep from the superhero. Harley knows from Betty that he’s still alive, but otherwise not saying much.

“Why won’t he talk to me?” Harley asks them Sunday night. “I don’t understand, its just a truth serum. Is he hiding something from me?”

Betty sighs. “In his defense, Harls, you’re hiding something from him too.”

“That’s different, and you know it.”

“I’m just saying,” Betty tells him. “Take it easy. He’s not talking to anybody, really. I only know what I know because Ned got him to open up a bit, but he’s basically taken a vow of silence until this is over. That’s why I’m calling. He’s asking us to respect it and give him space, especially at school.”

“What if he tells Flash he’s Spider-Man? He can’t go to school.”

“He’s determined.”

Harley huffs. “Fine.”

“Is it? Your accent gets thicker when you’re angry. I mean it’s sexy, but its an obvious tell.”

Harley closes his eyes and thanks the heavenly beings above for Betty’s very existence somehow making him feel called out and calmer all at once. “I’m sorry. I love you, Brant. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you too, Keener.”

Despite that conversation, Harley feels on edge the next few days at school. Peter is there, but he isn’t…_there._ If he speaks, its in low murmurings to Ned and MJ. He’s excused from answering questions in class after May speaks with the principal, and he doesn’t make much eye contact with Flash. The one time things seem like too much for Peter to keep silent, Ned tugs him away from the crowd and calls Tony. He’s picked up and spends the rest of the day at home.

Everything about it feels off. Since Harley started living in New York, Peter’s been by his side almost the entire time. They talk, they work together, they go to school together, they spend all of their spare time together. Falling in love with Peter hasn’t come from thin air, its grown steadily over months and months of companionship. And now, a part of that has been broken off because Peter is scared to reveal something.

Because he’s lying.

The only distraction Harley really gets comes in the form of the little love notes. They continue to drop out of his locker and his notebooks. It occurs to him that he should feel uncomfortable at the way this person seems able to access him at school, but he doesn’t try to make anyone stop. Despite how he can’t seem to like anyone besides Peter, there’s something about them. A certain tone that’s comfortable and familiar. In the tension surrounding his relationship with Peter, it becomes a welcome reprieve.

_I thought of you earlier when you I had cocoa puffs for breakfast. They’re so gross, you know? Just the worst. But you love them, won’t shut up about them. So I tried them. They suck. You don’t._

_I like how your hair looks when you’re standing outside and waiting for your ride_

_I can’t breathe when you look me in the eyes_

_Seriously, you’re a country boy. Why can’t you wear a baseball hat the normal way? Or maybe just a different hat?_

_Your accent makes my knees quake, cowboy. You’re killing me_

_I sometimes think about what your hands could do to me_

_You look phenomenal with glitter in your hair after that art project._

The straw that breaks the camel back falls on the following Friday. It’s been a week since Peter was attacked, and Harley can hardly sleep because he’s preoccupied with whatever secret Peter is keeping. He already knows that Peter is a nightly superhero. What else could he be missing? What truth is he not being let it on. Peter has always been open with him. What’s changed?

Harley is grumbling to himself about this when he opens his locker after Decathlon practice. Stuck in the slats is an envelope with his name scrawled on it in Peter’s handwriting. He opens it up to find a hand-drawn sketch of Harley and Peter sitting at desks, wide smiles on their faces. Under it is written,

_I can’t make it to your party tomorrow because of this truth serum crap, but I didn’t want you to think I forgot. Your present is in your room at the Tower. I’m happy you came to New York. Happy birthday, cowboy. ---Peter_

That's when it all falls into place.

_Happy birthday, cowboy._

_Your accent makes my knees quake, cowboy._

_I definitely have a crush on you, cowboy_

Harley feels his stomach drop from beneath him. “That fucker.”

**)-(**

When Harley gets to Peter’s apartment, May answers the door. “Harley, he isn’t home.”

“Then I will wait,” Harley says sharply. “I mean all the respect in the world, May, but I am pissed at him. I will wait in his room for him to get home.”

She takes a small breath. “You know.”

“I may be a dumbass sometimes, but I’m actually pretty smart. I can’t believe it took me so long.”

“Go on, then. He’ll probably come in through the window.”

Harley gives a lazy salute before passing her. He makes his way into Peter’s room, which is now painstakingly familiar to him, and plops dramatically on his bed. His mind races with thoughts of _Why didn’t I see it?_ and _I can’t believe neither of us were willing to talk it out. Its Peter_. There’s hardly anybody he trusts more. He almost feels guilty for being angry, because he’s been keeping the same secret, but…

He jolts into standing position. “Idiot. We’re both idiots.”

He starts pacing.

He keeps pacing.

He can’t _stop_ pacing.

As he’s making about his hundredth rotation near Peter’s desk, his eye catches a pile of papers on Peter’s desk. Knowing he shouldn’t and still somehow unable to shut down his curiosity, he leans closer when he sees many drafts holding his name.

_Harley. I love you. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to_

_Hey, Harls. I’m kind of freaking out. I don’t know how to do this._

_For so long, I’ve been wanting to say_

Harley takes a deep breath, sitting in the chair now. He brushes his hands across the papers, finding one that looks complete and zeroing in on it.

_Harley,_

_I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I know it seems like I’ve been keeping some big secret from you, and I have. It’s wrong. But I don’t know how else to go about this than writing it. I mean, I’ve been leaving you notes for weeks now, confessing everything I’ve ever felt about you. I even told you about how good you look in a hat backwards. _  
_Which, seriously. Why the hell do you only wear the fifty different hats you have the exact same way? What’s the point of a logo if I can’t see it?_  
_Anyways. Truth spell. I can’t talk to you in person. Because if I do, you’ll know…everything. You’ll know that when you gaze off outside during class, I see you and I get lost in you. Not your eyes, but you. Your hair, your smile, the drum beat you always play in your desk, the erasers you chew and the shake of your head at your friend’s antics. If I open my mouth in front of you, you’ll know that I think the way you talk about your sister is adorable. You love her, you protect her, and it hurts me because you do it like you’ve never been protected. And I want to protect you. I want to take care of you. I want you to stop coming to school with red eyes on your birthday and holidays because your dad doesn’t call. I want you to not work yourself to death in school to make leaving Tennessee worth it. I want you to have happiness, and I want that with me. _  
_But the thought of losing you is killing me, Harley. Because for as much as I know you care about me, I don’t have a goddamn clue if its romantic or not. You hug everyone. You smile at people the same way. You listen to everybody’s problems and hold hands with Ned, Betty, and MJ. Who knows if I’m special? And who knows what things will be like between us if I tell you I love you and you don’t feel the same way. What if you stop hanging out with me? If things are awkward with our friends and I never get to have quality time with you again? It’s not worth it to me. I know I should talk to you. But I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared. Because me loving you, me wanting you is a sure thing. But you wanting me? That’s not. And I don’t want to risk it because I’m a coward._  
_So, I’m writing it down because I don’t know how else to process it. Those notes? You weren’t even supposed to get them. They were just things I scribbled around in my notebook. And then you made some joke about how you didn’t like your messy hair, and I came across the note I scribbled about your curls. I wanted you to know that I liked them. After that, I just…kept letting you know how I felt. It was nice to get the thoughts down, to see you blush and smile. I should have asked if they made you creeped out, stopped sending them like a stalker, but I couldn’t. You had to know._  
_And I guess that’s what this is, if I ever decide to give it to you. You knowing. That I love you, that I miss you, and that I just want to be around you basically forever._

_Yours,_  
_Peter_

_P.S. Happy eighteenth_

“H-Harley," a gasp comes from behind him.

Harley turns. Standing at the window is Peter, his mask off and tears in his eyes. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter sniffles. “I should have said something, but I was scared that you were never going to want to be around me again—

“I know, Pete, I know.” Harley stands up, holding the letter. “I read.”

“And?” Peter swallows. “What do you—what do you think?”

“I think,” Harley says softly. “I know what I want for my birthday.”


End file.
